didn't care about the Claw any longer; he just wanted to find a corner to crawl into with a bottle of J amp;B.
His head pounded from where it had come into contact with the locker. He wanted the pounding to stop. He wanted life, his fevered brain with its obsessions, to end.
He once again began to contemplate suicide. It would be a clean break, and perhaps that way, no one would ever have to know about his weakness and his transgressions. No one would have to know about his cowardly fears, his mental blackouts, his awful visions like the head in his locker.
He swore to himself that no one would ever know the depths to which he had fallen.
Her time with Alan off duty was precisely what she needed, Jessica decided. The kindly Dr. Darius had urged her to follow all passions, as he put it. Now Alan managed to take her mind off the demanding burdens she had been subjected to since arriving in New York, not only those of the baffling, frustrating Claw case but all of the painful memories she had brought with her. She was transported out of herself and her narrow self-interest, and now the stress she'd felt over the past few days had melted away.
Dinner was a sumptuous meal at a wonderful harborfront restaurant high above the city. They'd gotten a window looking out over the glassy expanse of New York Harbor, the boat lights reflecting up at them. She could not recall a time when she'd been more relaxed, more herself, and she genuinely liked Alan, who apparently felt the same way about her.
After dinner he took her for a ride to a place called Belmont Harbor on the Hudson River where they got out and walked along a wharf and past the boats. The rigging beat out a chorus of soft metal clinks, a lilting sound created by the same wind that swept through her hair. In a few moments they stood before a beautiful sailboat with the name MVP painted boldly at the stern. Rychman stepped aboard and said, “Coming?”
“ Is this yours?”
“ Still making payments, but I like to think it's mine, yes.”
“ Wow, do you ever get her out of her slip?”
“ Not often enough.” He held out his hand to her and she accepted it, stepping aboard with her cane, fearful of slipping. He held her firmly and she managed well.
“ You've got to come out with me sometime. You'd love it. We could take a whole day, make our way to Nantucket Island.”
She had a fearful, flitting premonition of a time when, having allowed herself to love Botine, she suddenly and explosively lost him. Any relationship with a cop could end this way, she knew. She also knew she was projecting her feelings for Otto Boutine onto Alan, and these feelings felt right and sure, but they brought with them a great price. Finally she said, “I'd like that; it's a beautiful sailboat, Alan, just lovely.”
“ One of my larger and more expensive vices. Can't afford anything larger, or I'd have a Cobra XS-2100, believe me.”
“ Why didn't you tell me about it before?”
“ Showin's better'n tellin' in circumstances such as these, I've learned. Want to see the rest of her?” He unlocked the cabin door and held it open to her. “Careful of that First step.”
She lay the cane aside and used the handrails, going down into the cabin after he clicked on the lights. It was a beautiful interior, almost entirely of teak, shining and warm. It felt like the coziest, safest place on the planet, she thought.
“ I love it.”
“ I hoped you would.”
He went for the little refrigerator and an icy bottle of zin-fandel materialized in his hands. “I've got some nice glasses somewhere,” he continued as he searched. “Here they are.” He removed the cork as she glanced out through the portholes at the dark expanse of the big river, which looked as calm as peace itself.
“ I've got my scuba gear stowed below the bed,” he said as he poured the wine.
“ So how's the diving here?”
“ Not terrific, but it keeps me in shape. I mean it's not like Mexico or Florida. But we've got a few man-made reefs. Keeps me in practice.”
She took the wine he offered and sipped at it. They then talked about diving and seriously planning a dive trip together once all this was over. He assured her that he would meet her anywhere, anytime. They talked about other concerns, and she told him about her father and how he had taught her to be independent and self-sufficient and strong. Alan spoke of his childhood, which was in no way so harmo-nious as hers, citing frequent battles with his father, who simply never understood him or his brother. He said he envied her relationship with her father.
They talked so easily and so long that they'd both lost track of time and suddenly she realized it was past midnight. “Perhaps I should go now,” she suggested, putting aside the wine she held, getting to her feet and looking about for her cane.
“ You left it on deck,” he said. Then he approached her there in the cramped cabin and put his arms around her. She allowed him to hold her. In her ear, he said, “I can't remember a time when I was so comfortable with a woman, Jess. I want you to know that.”
She looked into his eyes and read the depth of sincerity there. She lifted her mouth to his in an open invitation to him and he did not fail her. Their passionate kiss lingered and became a long, breathtaking one. When they parted, their eyes were fixed on one another. He wanted to say something but was afraid that words would fail him, and she sensed this.
“ Don't say anything,” she instructed him. “You've heard me go on and on about all the places I've been, all the things I've done.”
“ And I've enjoyed every word.”
“ I've never been here before, and I've never made love on a sailboat before.”
He lowered her to the bed. “Neither have I.”
Their lovemaking had them both believing that it would be endless as they fulfilled their desires. Each time they parted, exhausted and panting, a new wave of passion swept over them, erupting like a powerful tide neither wished to stem.
Alan's body was powerful, his muscles like stone. He was strong, pinning her against the bed, driving into her with sure yet gentle strokes, surging and retreating and surging again.
Alan somehow made her feel weightless and without care. She had become Jessica Coran again, someone she had long missed. With him, she realized, she did not have to put up any fronts. She was accepted as his equal yet he managed also to make her feel like a woman again. She hadn't been touched by a man this way since Otto.
Sometime in the night they left the boat and returned to her hotel, where they showered and made love under the spray. When they finally shut off the water, they heard her phone ringing. It was like a death knell to their night. It was almost four in the morning.
Lou Pierce was on the other end of the line, asking for Alan, saying he'd tried him everywhere else he could think of, and that she was his last hope.
“ He's right here, Lou. Hold on,” she told the sergeant, unhappy that she and Rychman had been “found out.”
Rychman came across the room in a towel and took the phone from her, barking into it, “What's the problem, Lou?”
“ It's bad news. Captain, having to do with Dr. Darius, sir.”
“ What is it, Lou? Spit it out.” To Jessica, he said, “Something's up with Luther Darius.”
“ I'm afraid, sir, he's… well, it looks like he's committed suicide, sir.”
“ Suicide?”
Jessica's face went white as she repeated the horrible word. “Suicide?”
“ How did it happen, Lou?” Rychman asked.
“ Jumped from his hospital window, Captain.”
“ Hospital? What hospital? When I last saw him-”
“ He suffered some sort of seizure at the lab, was carried out sometime around seven last evening, after you'd gone. I tried to locate you, but-”
“ Who's handling it, Lou?”
“ O’Toole and Mannion were in the area, checking on some lead, something to do with a clinic in the medical complex; you know that strip of medical buildings along there, several city blocks long. We got Archer in on the
